Page 25 of Something Forever

“Sure,” I reply. She tugs at the silverware drawer, the motion smooth and easy ever since I fixed the thing. After she told me it wasn’t working, I took it upon myself to mend it, and it turned out to be a simple task.

Whitney’s brow furrows, and she looks at me. “It’s fixed,” she says in awe.

I shrug, glancing away from her bright brown eyes. “It was easy to do. I can show you how if you want.”

A smile spreads across her face, and I can’t help but stare at the sight. I’ll fix a hundred drawers if it means I can see that damned smile on her face one more time. “Thank you for doing that,” she says.

“No big deal.”

She pours me a glass of wine and hands it to me, clinking her glass against mine.

“To new beginnings?” I offer.

“If you’re waiting for me to forget that you told me to fuck off, you’re out of luck.”

Despite myself, I laugh. “So, chore wheel?” I prompt. Whitney grabs a shopping bag and empties out the contents on the counter.

“I am so excited. I may or may not have spent $100 at Michael’s.” She plugs in a glue gun and hands me a packet of construction paper.

“Wow,” I chuckle under my breath. “You were serious about that craft stuff.”

“Absolutely,” she replies, tossing me a packet of glitter. “I have a scrapbooking addiction.”

She spends the next ten minutes showing me exactly how she wants to build the wheel and assigns me to cutting duty, noting that it’s one of the only things I can’t screw up. I’m elbow deep in glitter and glue when I finally set my tools down and take a deep breath.

“I have something I need to ask you,” I start, not totally sure how to breach this topic with someone I hardly know.

“Is it about the shade of pink? Because I was also thinking it’s too pink.”

“It’s not about the pink,” I cut her off. Reaching across the counter, I place my palm over hers, and meet her eyes. Her hands are soft and warm. I blink at her, and the corners of my mouth tilt upwards automatically, bracing myself for her reaction. I’m sure this will go over like a pile of bricks, and yet I find myself excited for her reaction. I take a deep breath, and pose the question I’ve been waiting all day to ask:

“Will you marry me?”

Whitney looks like she might be in shock. She’s gaping back at me, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, staring at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“Listen, I’ll be straight with you. I overheard you gossiping with your friend about your… dilemma,” I tell her.

That gets her attention. She snaps her gaze to me, her eyes hard. “You were eavesdropping on me? In my apartment?”

“Our apartment,” I correct her.

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. It’s mine, and I don’t gossip. Two women talking is not gossiping.”

I hold my hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Do you have to take everything I say as an insult?”

She narrows her eyes. “Maybe because your tone is insulting!”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, inhaling and closing my eyes. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…

When I feel calm enough to not say something stupid, I open my eyes “Bottom line is I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”

She whistles out a laugh. “Wow. I actually don’t need your offer, but good to know my private conversations aren’t as private as I thought.”

“Come on. I heard you. You need the money to start your business.”

“That was private!” she seethes. “As in, not for you to hear.”

“I wasn’t intentionally listening to your conversation. It just happened,” I explain.

---